


stranger than fiction, the smile on your face

by laminy



Series: and i want you to know (that my feelings are true) [3]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Joger Week 2019, M/M, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-31 06:56:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21106166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laminy/pseuds/laminy
Summary: Moving into Roger's flat, John unpacks an old photo album, and Roger realizes how much his boyfriend loves photography.Day 7 of Joger Week - Photography





	stranger than fiction, the smile on your face

John shifts on the floor, lifting a couple books out of the box, finding their spot on the shelf, then he turns and grabs a much larger book. He tries to slide it on the shelf, but it’s too tall, so he frowns and slides it in at an angle. He sighs a bit, thinking it looks ugly like that, then takes it back off, setting it on the floor. He grabs a couple more books, quickly glancing at the titles before shelving them as well.

He can hear a creak behind him and sees a shifting shadow, and he pauses, smiling. “Hello.”

“Hi, John,” Roger says, leaning down to press the top of John’s head, ruffling his hair a bit. “I hope those are all good books, nothing dull.”

John chuckles softly, grabbing a book, handing it up to Roger.

“_Tropic of Cancer_,” Roger reads softly, starting to flip through it. “Oh, is this that sex book?” he asks. He smiles, quickly sitting down next to John. “I had no idea you were so naughty.” He looks up. “Well, that’s not exactly true.” He keeps flipping through the pages, then stops. “‘_You can stuff toads, bats, lizards up your rectum. You can shit arpeggios if you like, or string a zither across your naval. I am fucking you, Tania, so that you’ll stay fucked. And if you are afraid of being fucked publicly I will fuck you privately._’” Roger’s mouth falls open and he looks at John, eyes wide. “Deaky!”

John laughs, reaching out to take the book back from Roger’s hands, putting it on the shelf. “Not too dull then, I hope?”

“What other sorts of perverted things did you bring with you?” Roger asks, reaching out to run his fingers over the spines of John’s books. He looks down at the book on the floor, and smiles. “What’s this, then?” he asks, picking it up.

“Just photos,” John says.

Roger opens the album, smiling immediately. “Look at you!” he exclaims. “Your hair! Your little hands!” He turns to John, reaching out to take his hand. “Not so little anymore,” he says softly, locking their fingers together. “Are all these of you?” he asks, flipping to the next page.

“And some of Julie, and my parents,” John says. “Just family photos. Some I took.”

“Some _you_ took?” Roger asks. “And here I thought Brian was the band photographer.”

John smiles. “I’m sure I’m not as good as all that,” he says, “I just do it for fun sometimes.” He turns, reaching out to flip to the back of the album. “That’s Uplands Park, in Oadby. That’s the racecourse.”

Roger flips the page, immediately grinning. “That’s you,” he says, looking at a photo that John took of himself in the mirror.

“Oh, is it?” John asks sarcastically. 

Roger bites his lip, gently drumming his fingers on the photo. “Where’s your camera then?” he asks. “Haven’t you unpacked it yet?”

John shakes his head. “Don’t have one anymore,” he says. “Got too old, broke.”

“And even you couldn’t fix it?” Roger asks. “I can’t believe that.”

John chuckles. “It was _very_ badly broken,” he says, smiling. “That’s alright, though. Got the band to distract me now.”

“Hmm,” Roger murmurs, nodding slowly. He flips another page, smiling. “And who’s this, then?” he asks. “Cheating on me with another band?”

John leans over, resting his chin on Roger’s shoulder. “The Opposition,” he says. “Wait, uh, no, yes, The Opposition.” He smiled. “We’d changed our name a few times.” 

Roger squints, lifting the photo album up to get a better look. “Back when you were a guitar player, then,” he says. He sets the album down, smiling and turning to give John a quick kiss. “Give me a moment,” he says, pushing himself up.

“Where are you going?” John asks, watching Roger walk into their bedroom (and John loves that it’s now _their_ bedroom), smiling when he hears Roger start grumbling to himself, tossing clothes on the floor. After a few moments, Roger comes back out, his own photo album in hand.

“Here,” Roger says, sitting back down. “This is the only one I’ve got, we can keep them together. When we have guests, it will make us look respectable.”

“You could never,” John says.

Roger playfully pushes at John, making him laugh, and then he pushes at him again, until John’s back is on the floor, and Roger’s scrambling to crawl into his lap, straddling him.

“Oh, _again_?” John asks, teasing. “I’ll never get these bloody books put away.”

“I'm sure it’s a hardship,” Roger says. “Now, just a moment.” He reaches down, fixing a couple pieces of John’s hair, smoothing out his shirt.

“What are you doing?” John asks, and he’s stopped by Roger’s finger on his mouth, which he playfully bites at.

Roger slips his fingers down to John’s neck and tickles him just a bit. John laughs loudly, and Roger murmurs “perfect” as he raises his hands up to his face, making his thumbs and pointer fingers in the shape of a box, then he makes a soft clicking sound as he pretends to press his finger down on a button.

John laughs again softly, looking up at Roger in confusion. “What are you doing?” he asks again.

“That’s _just_ how I’d like to remember you,” Roger says. “Pretty as a picture,” he says. He leans down, cupping John’s cheeks in his hands, kissing him.

John opens his mouth to Roger’s, settling his hands on Roger’s waist. As Roger leans down, his hair falls forward, and John reaches one hand up, tucking some of it back behind Roger’s ear. He smiles. “Were you planning on forgetting me otherwise?” he asks.

Roger laughs softly, shaking his head. “Thought I told you: I don’t forget you,” he says. 

“Right,” John says. He kisses Roger again, and again, until Roger is rocking against him. “Are you sure it should be on the floor?” he asks.

Roger smiles brightly, reaching down to pull off his jumper. “Doesn’t matter,” he says, “it’ll be your back that’s sore, not mine.” He winks at John as he tosses his jumper across the room, then leans down to kiss him again.

“You’re terrible,” John murmurs, fingers slipping under the waistband of Roger’s trousers.

“Should I leave then?” Roger asks, pretending to climb off John’s lap.

“Never,” John says, wrapping his arms around Roger’s back, dragging him back down. “We have to christen the living room at some point.”

Roger smiles, reaching down, cupping John’s face. “I love you,” he says.

John laughs softly. “Because we’re about to shag?” he asks.

Roger shakes his head. “I loved you long before that, John Deacon,” he says, rubbing gentle circles in John’s skin with his thumb. “I won’t turn it down, I’ll give you that, but…” He leans down, kissing John again. 

John pulls back and looks up at him, then raises his hands to his face, making a camera with them like Roger did, and then clicks down with his finger.

“Did you get my good side?” Roger asks, curling his fingers into John’s stomach.

John laughs, and nods, settling his hands back on Roger’s waist. “You’ve got nothing but good sides,” he says.

\+ + + + +

John takes a quick drink, looking around. They’re at Imperial College, having been invited to a small party in one of the student lounges after finishing rehearsal in one of the lecture halls. He’s sat next to Brian on a ratty old sofa, while Roger’s sitting near him in a chair, and Freddie’s entertaining himself with a small group of group of students. Every once in awhile, Roger reaches out, curling his fingers over John’s thigh, just to let him know that he’s still there as he talks to a couple of the people milling about.

Their instruments are put away, but Brian’s still got a bag with him by his feet. John briefly wonders what he’s got with him, but doesn’t pay any attention until Brian reaches down at one point to open it, taking out a book. John leans forward a bit, and immediately puts his hand out without thinking. “Bri,” he says, “can I have a look at that?”

Brian turns to look at John, and glances down at his bag. “Yes, of course,” he says, reaching down to hand his camera over, turning back to speak to the girl who’s sat on the other side of him on the small sofa.

Roger smiles, watching John turn the camera over in his hands, examining it. He shifts in his chair to lean a bit closer to him. “What’s that?” he asks softly, pointing at the top of the camera. 

John quickly lifts the camera to his face, looking through the viewfinder before turning the camera around and looking at again. “It says speed,” he says softly, moving closer to Roger so he doesn’t have to talk as loud over the people at the get-together, their knees knocking together.

“What’s that mean?” Roger asks, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“The type of film, I think,” John replies. He lifts the camera again, and then adjusts the dial on the front, then puts it back to the normal position. He switches the speed control, then looks up at Roger. “Can I?” he asks.

“Uh, I suppose,” Roger shrugs. He’s not sure how photogenic he’s feeling right now, he usually likes to shower after they practice, but John’s obviously quite into the idea of it. The camera is like a new toy for him.

John tries to focus on Roger, then reaches out, pushing at Roger’s shoulder until Roger is sitting as far back as he can, and then John sits back as far as he can too, pushing himself up a bit on the sofa.

“Alright, alright,” Roger mutters, grinning.

Brian glances over at John, smiling as he watches him snap the photo. “Having fun, John?” he asks, nudging him playfully.

“Loads,” John says, grinning at him, sitting back down. “Thanks.”

Roger leans forward again, watching John reset the camera, then pull on a couple of tabs, taking the film out. John carefully holds it between his fingers, setting the camera down between him and Brian. “How long does it take?” Roger asks.

“I’m not sure,” John admits, “a few minutes, I think.”

“Bloody brilliant,” Roger murmurs, studying the film in John’s hand. “Huh.” He looks up at John and smiles, leaning in to give him a quick kiss.

John nervously ducks away from him, turning his head to look at the other people in the room. They’re mostly people Brian knows from his post-grad program; John doesn’t recognize a lot of them, if any. He’s not sure how comfortable to feel around them yet.

“Sorry,” Roger murmurs, pressing his mouth to John’s ear before leaning back.

John shakes his head. “S’alright,” he replies, taking a deep breath. They sit quietly again, listening to the music playing for a few minutes, until John peels away the top layer, revealing the photo of Roger, and he immediately smiles. 

“Can I see?” Roger asks, reaching out.

“I don’t know,” John says, playfully holding it to his chest, “I think I may like to keep it to myself.”

“Don’t be a tease,” Roger says, “if there’s going to be a photo of me floating around, I’d like to see it.”

“I don’t think sticking it in a photo album at the flat counts as ‘floating around’,” John says, “but I suppose.” He smiles and hands it over to Roger. “Do you like it?” he asks.

“I’ve looked better,” Roger says, “but I like that you took it.” John smiles, and then Roger reaches his hand out. “Camera, please.”

John turns and takes the camera from between him and hands it over to Roger, who immediately puts it up to his face. “Roger, don’t,” he says, turning away, and Roger smiles.

“Come on, John,” Roger says, pushing at him like John had just done to him, until he’s framed properly, “be a proper model for me.”

John sighs and rolls his eyes, getting a playful nudge from Brian.

“Yes, do come on, Deaky,” Brian says, and John turns to look at him, “be his model.”

John smiles and finally turns back to Roger, posing reluctantly. 

“Brilliant,” Roger says, snapping the photo, pulling the film out.

“I should think that if anyone here deserves to have a photo taken, it should be me,” Freddie says, walking over to them. “No offence, Deaky.”

John smiles at Roger, rolling his eyes. “None taken,” he says sarcastically.

Roger hands John back the photo of himself, keeping the one he just took of John, then turns to Freddie. “Alright then, Freddie,” he says, holding the camera up, “make yourself beautiful.”

“I’m always beautiful, dear,” Freddie says, posing for Roger.

John laughs softly, then looks down again at the photo of Roger, smiling before slipping it into his pocket.

\+ + + + +

“John?” Roger calls, opening the door to the flat. “Are you home?” He walks in, kicking off his trainers, then closing the door. “Deaky?” He walks into the flat, setting his bag down on the counter. He frowns; John had classes earlier, but he was supposed to be home by now. He supposes he might be at the library, or caught on the bus on the way home. But Roger had stopped off at the shops after his class ended, and he can’t believe that he’s beat him back to the flat.

Roger walks towards the bedroom, deciding that he’ll just start getting ready now, so John will be surprised when he gets back. He glances around the flat as he walks towards the bedroom, singing softly to himself, then pushes open the door, pausing mid-sentence, starting to smile. 

John’s curled up on the bed, his hair fanned out on the pillow, his arms wrapped around another. His mouth is hanging open, snoring softly. John had left the flat early this morning, going to the library before he had to turn in a project, but Roger didn’t realize just how tired John really was. 

Roger walks back out into the flat, closing the bedroom door behind him. He grabs the bag off the counter and sits down at the small kitchen table and takes out the gift that he’d gotten for John. He opens the box, reading the instructions. 

When it’s ready, Roger walks back into the bedroom, smiling at John again. He carefully sits down on the mattress, and John makes a quiet noise, but doesn’t seem to wake up. Roger lifts the camera to his face, focusing on John, snapping a photo. The noise makes John stir a bit, and he rolls onto his back. Roger sets the first photo down on the bedside table and then shifts, taking another one.

John groans softly, reaching up to rub at his eyes. “Roger?” he murmurs, slowly blinking up at him. He looks over at the clock, and then pushes himself up a bit. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I— I didn’t mean to still be asleep.”

Roger smiles and pushes the blankets out of the way, settling on John’s lap, holding the camera up again.

“Where’d you get that?” John asks. “Is it Brian’s?”

Roger lowers the camera, smiling at him. “It’s yours, actually,” he says. “I got it for you.”

“Me?” John asks in surprise. “I— Roger, you— you shouldn’t have.”

“And why not?” Roger asks. “My boyfriend wants a camera, why shouldn’t he have one?”

“Roger, I—”

“John, just take the gift,” Roger says. “For me, please. I want you to have it.”

John smiles, and finally nods slowly, sitting up a bit further. “Were you taking photos of me?” he asks.

Roger shrugs, smiling. “Maybe I was,” he says. “What’s wrong with that?”

“You’re a pervert,” John says, and Roger laughs loudly.

“Well, I don’t think anyone was disputing that,” Roger says, lifting the camera up again. “Now come on,” he says, “take your shirt off.”

“Oh my god, Roger,” John groans.

“What?” Roger asks. “Take your shirt off so your pervert boyfriend can take some dirty photos of you.” John sighs, looking up at him. “_What_?” Roger asks. “I’m not going to show them to Brian or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, I…” John sighs again, reaching up to rub his hand over his face.

Roger smiles, leaning down to give John a kiss. “You look fine, Deaky,” he whispers, kissing him again, “it’s just for me.”

“For what?” John asks.

Roger bites down on his lip, smirking. “You know for what,” he says, winking.

“_Roger_,” John says, “you’re not serious.”

“Why not?” Roger asks. “I rub one out thinking ‘bout you all the time, now I’ve got a little extra help. A visual aid."

John smiles, shaking his head. “Why would you have to do that?” he asks, reaching up to rest his hands on Roger’s thighs. “When I’m right here?” 

“Ooh, John, are you flirting with me?” Roger asks. He leans down, brushing his lips against John’s, then sits back up, holding the camera up again. “Come on, just one _really_ good one,” he says.

“And what’s _really_ good?” John asks.

Roger smiles, reaching down between them, rubbing John through his trousers, chuckling lowly when John groans. He undoes the button and pulls down the zipper with one nimble hand. 

“Roger,” John says, shifting beneath him, “I— come on, this is—” He gasps when Roger wraps his hand around him, and he clutches at Roger’s thighs. 

“Just one,” Roger says, still stroking him. “For me.”

John swallows hard, nodding. “Oh— okay, yes,” he says, sitting up a bit to grab the bottom of his shirt, tugging it over his head.

Roger grins, and then shifts back, getting all of John in the frame before quickly taking the photo.

“Come on, Rog, put the camera down,” John says, pushing himself up a bit further.

Roger does, and then reaches down, pulling off his shirt. He climbs off John long enough to push down his trousers and underwear, then is immediately back on his lap. “Are you going to fuck me?” he murmurs, starting to rock against him, licking his way into John’s mouth.

John nods, reaching up to brush Roger’s hair back from his face before reaching over to the bedside table, fumbling a bit with the drawer, tugging it open. 

Roger pushes himself up and reaches over, grabbing the vaseline for himself. He sets it down for a moment, before picking up the camera, handing it over to John. John reaches out to set it down, but Roger stops him.

“What’s wrong?” John asks.

“Nothing,” Roger says, unscrewing the lid on the vaseline, dipping his fingers in before shifting on his knees, reaching behind himself. “I just,” he gasps softly, then groans, “don’t you want a photo of me?”

“Roger,” John says, watching Roger rock back and forth on his lap. 

“Just one,” Roger says, wetting his lips, groaning loudly as he presses in a bit harder. 

John looks up at him, as mesmerized as always by Roger in front of him. He swallows hard and then after a moment more of watching him, he nods jerkily and raises the camera to his face, taking a picture. He pulls the film out and then immediately sets the camera and photo down, then reaches up to pull Roger down into a kiss.

“We’ve got to get you out of these,” Roger murmurs against his mouth, starting to tug John’s trousers down off his hips. 

“You’ll have to move, then,” John says, and Roger shakes his head.

“No, I don’t want to,” he says, and he reaches over for more vaseline, starting to stroke John with it.

“God, Roger,” John groans, pressing his head back against the pillow.

“God, John,” Roger pants, “touch me, _please_.”

John shifts under Roger, then takes him in one hand, slowly stroking him as his other hand digs into Roger’s hip. He’s quiet, watching Roger move above him.

“_Brilliant_.” Roger’s breath hitches, as he rocks back and forth on his fingers, feeling the slip of John’s cock against him. By the time Roger finally sinks down onto John, they’re both so far gone, they barely last. Roger takes control, fucking himself on John, and John can barely do anything but just hold on and watch. And _fuck_, John thinks, he’s beautiful like this. He wants to keep him like this forever.

“Roger,” John pants, thrusting up into him. Roger groans, and lets out a breathy little whine as John grinds his hips. “Roger,” he says again.

“Yes,” Roger gasps, bouncing up and down, electric pleasure shooting through his body every time he moves.

John swallows hard, and glances over at the camera. He taps Roger’s hip, and does it again until Roger opens his eyes, looking down. “Can I?” he asks, looking over at the camera again.

Roger bites down on his lip, still moving on top of John, and then finally nods. “_Yes_,” he gasps, and John smiles, reaching over to grab the camera.

\+ + + + +

“Oh, can I see it?” Brian asks, reaching out to John, who hands the camera over. “Oh, a bit nicer than mine, even,” he says, examining it.

John smiles, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear, glancing over to the drum kit where Roger’s sat, Freddie standing in front of him, drumming out a beat with his hands. 

“And he just gave it to you?” Brian asks, looking up.

“Yes,” John nods, “he uh, well, I used to have a camera and it broke; Roger wanted me to have a new one.”

Brian smiles, handing it back over to John. “He’s alright then, isn’t he?” he asks. “As a boyfriend, I mean."

John laughs, nodding. “He is, but I won’t tell him you said that,” he says. “He doesn’t need to know you’re complimenting him.”

“It would only give him an even bigger head,” Brian says. “God knows we couldn’t take it.”

John chuckles, then glances over to Roger and Freddie again. 

“Are you lot ready, then?” Freddie asks, looking over. “I think Roger and I have worked it out and want to try again?”

Brian and John glance at each other and nod, pushing themselves up. Brian walks over to his guitar, carefully picking it up, lifting the strap over his head. John takes a couple steps towards his bass, then stops, turning around to go back to his bag. He crouches down and unzips it, carefully putting the camera inside. He reaches in to grab a few pieces of folded paper with basslines scratched on them. He walks back over to his bass, stuffing the papers into his back pocket.

Roger counts them in, and Freddie starts on the piano. Brian and John start, and then Freddie begins singing. They run through the entire song, with only a few mistakes, but nothing bad enough to make them start over.

Brian sets his guitar down again to walk over to grab some water, and John turns, smiling at Roger. “I was thinking for your new song, Rog,” John says, reaching into his pocket to grab his notes, “that we’d do something like—”

“Deaky,” Freddie says from behind him, “you’ve dropped one.”

“Oh, thanks,” John says, turning around, stopping at the look on Freddie’s face. Then his eyes widen when he realizes it’s not note-paper in Freddie’s hand. “Uh, I’ll take that.”

Freddie looks up at John, then glances at Roger, then back to John. “I’m sure you will,” he says. “Tell me, is this necessary for practice? A good luck charm, perhaps?” he asks.

“What’ve you go— _oh my god_,” Brian says, averting his eyes as he walks over to Freddie. “Oh my god, I don’t know if I ever needed to see that.”

“Just give it here,” John says, snatching the photograph out of Freddie’s hand, shoving it back into his pocket.

“See what?” Roger asks.

“_Nothing_,” John says, turning around. “Nothing. Don’t— nothing.”

“Did you— god John, I just touched that camera,” Brian says, shaking his head.

“The camera?” Roger asks. “What does the—” He takes in the looks on the other three’s faces and then his eyes go wide. “What’s in your pocket?”

“Just notes,” John says. “Basslines.”

Roger shakes his head. “John Deacon, tell me what’s in your pocket,” he says again

“I can tell you what’s in his trousers,” Freddie murmurs, and Brian snorts, trying not to laugh.

“I didn’t mean to,” John says, “it was just in my bag, I didn’t realize I’d grabbed it. I’m sorry.”

Roger stands up behind his drumkit. “John,” he says again. “Which one is it?”

“You took more than one?” Brian asks loudly.

“Of course we did,” Roger says, “why do you think I bought so much film?” He turns back to John, holding his hand out, and John sighs, taking the photo back out of his pocket, handing it over to Roger. Roger brings it up close to his face, then after a moment, he smiles. “Yeah, I like that one too,” he says, handing it back to John.

“Oh my god,” Brian mutters, shaking his head. “Can we get back to playing now? John, try to keep it in your trousers this time.”

“If there’s any room in there,” Freddie says, following behind Brian.

“I—” John sighs, just shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he says again to Roger.

“Aren’t you so chuffed I gave you that camera?” Roger asks. “Don’t worry, you can make it up to me.”

“How?” John asks.

Roger smiles. “Two things. First, you can tell me what you were doing with that photo in your bag.” John looks away, cheeks burning red. “And second, you’ll see later tonight,” Roger says. “Lucky I bought so much film, right?”

**Author's Note:**

> • my first foray into BoRhap slash was Roger/John (god that was in January) so it's nice to be back.  
• thank you to @sarinataylor on tumblr for getting me excited to write them again!  
• I still think they're the sweetest thing ever.  
• also John being a bit kinkier than everyone thinks is one of my favourite things.  
• carrying nude photos around with him! gasp, John!


End file.
